What Doesn't Kill You
by newsieflip88
Summary: Once again, Reid finds himself fighting for his life, but this time it's more than just his life that's at stake. Will the team be able to crack the case before it's too late? Please R&R! Love to hear what you think!
1. Neverending Nightmares

Chapter 1: Never-ending Nightmares

Reid rubbed the tip of his fingers methodically over the thick case file lying open on his lap while the other hand grasped a scalding cup of black coffee.

Seven victims, Two possible unsubs, and absolutely no working profile – yet.

Reid knew he was an integral part of the team and quite possibly the brains that helped the BAU crack most of their cases but lately he'd been struggling. The nightmares had come back more prominent than before and, although varied in storylines, all dealt with the same major theme; his own bloodied death. Of course, Reid had suffered through horrid nightmares before and as always, Morgan, Gideon, and the rest of the team had been their to pick up the pieces but this was different. These dreams didn't go away when he opened his eyes. They lingered in the back of his mind throughout the grueling workday. Minutes felt like hours and the hours dragged on until he was forced, by pure exhaustion, into fitful and restless slumbers. And the dark circles that naturally encompassed his eyes turned into cavernous black holes. They regretfully reminded him of those torturous and humiliating high school years full of hopeless fistfights and weekly ass kicking's. Reid had no idea why visions of his untimely death chose to stubbornly swim around in the back of his already meticulous mind, but any longer and he'd be forced to see a psychiatrist. His recent studies with dream analysis and hypnotherapy had led to dead ends and he was quickly approaching the time for drastic measures. He needed sleep.

Hey kid!" Morgan yelled. His eyes looked creased with concern and his open palm waved only inches from Reid's nose. The sudden outburst succeeded in waking Reid from his drowsy stupor but also caused him to spill half the contents of his coffee down the front of his sweater vest.

"Damn" gasped Reid, jumping out of his chair and waving his arms around wildly trying to cool the liquid that was now scorching his forearms. Some napkins were hastily shoved in his direction and he grabbed them without thanks. Reid was used to lack of sleep and fits of clumsiness but this was getting ridiculous.

"You okay, kid?" asked Morgan, backing away slowly to give Reid some space to compose himself. "We can wait for you to go to the bathroom and get yourself cleaned up, if you want?" Reid looked up and saw that all his teammates were looking at him with the same expression of worry and mild anxiety. All except for Gideon, who was staring at Reid like he could see right through his pale flesh and into the innermost secrets of his soul. Reid had always been the baby of the group and was therefore treated with much more caution and concern than the rest of its members.

Trying to gain his calm, Reid took a deep breath and conjured his best closed mouth smirk. "No, No, I'm fine. We've got seven dead victims and no time to waste so let's just go ahead with the case. I'll dry off."

As usual JJ stepped up to the front of the room and scrolled through the pictures of all seven victims giving names, dates of birth, dates of death, current residences, and other generalities associated with every case. As Reid flipped though the file he saw the pictures of mutilated bodies lying in shallow rivers and creeks. Soon, JJ's voice faded into the background; he envisioned his own torn and battered body sprawled across the rocks, turning the river red with blood.

"So what's the statistic Reid?" This time it was Prentiss who jolted Reid from his revolting nightmare.

"I'm sorry?" Reid said, trying to look embarrassed for practically dreaming with his eyes open during a case debriefing.

"General homicide statistics for South Western United States?"

"Oh, well speaking strictly homicide cases, Louisiana is the highest ranked state to suffer from murders with approximately 13 percent killed out of every one hundred thousand residents. Also," Reid's voice hitched and raised a few octaves as the information rapidly poured from his lips. "murderers almost always kill within their same race and the prime hours in which a murderer strikes usually start at 6pm and rapidly increase until 11pm, where they then steadily decline." he finished. It always seemed that the one thing to never fail him was his eidetic memory and gift for absorbing new knowledge. If nothing else, the opportunity to spout a stream of statistics decreased his throbbing headache and woke him momentarily. By now the team was used to Reid's indisputable talents and were already headed to the jet for an early morning flight.

Reid hazily trotted down the stairs and over to his desk in the bullpen when he pulled out his phone to check the time. He liked giving himself sufficient time to prepare for flights, especially longer ones, and especially now when he needed to muster as much energy and focus as possible. As he flipped open his phone to check the time there was a new voicemail blinking in the sidebar. The time on the voicemail indicted it was left at 7:21. He'd missed the call by less than ten minutes. Figuring it was his mom due for another mother–son checkup; he punched in his password and waited as the receiver found the new message. Reid quickly grabbed his duffel bag and headed down the secluded hallway outside the main office. Spotting Prentiss a few feet ahead he yelled out to her.

"Emily!" She spun on her heels. "Tell Hotch I'll be there in a few minutes, I've got a few messages to check. Plus, I have to go to the bathroom."

"Can you do it on the plane?" She yelled back, still moving slowly in the direction of the jet. "Hotch really wants to get moving as soon as possible. Can't waste much time, remember?"

"Yeah, okay. Just give me a few seconds then." Reid yelled again, seeing as Emily had already turned her back on him and was walking briskly to the doors of the building. She did give him a quick thumbs up to show that she had heard and understood.

As Reid's phone finally located the voicemail the number came up as caller unidentified but he'd decided if it was important enough to leave a voicemail about than he should probably give it a listen.

"I know what's been going through that mind of yours, Dr. Spencer Reid" The voice was hoarse and unfamiliar through the speakers. "You've seen your death but so many to choose from. Which shall we pick? Decisions, decisions." And then a maniacal, wheezing cackle came through the phone. Just the sound of it made Reid's blood run cold. But then –

BAM! Reid phased in and out of consciousness for a mere second until finally, everything went black.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Are we ready to lift off?" Hotch asked as he fastened his seatbelt against the rear window of the jet. He took a quick glance around the compartment to make sure all was in order. "Wait, where's Reid?"

Morgan's head popped over the couch cushion, his eyes protective.

"Oh, sorry. I was supposed to tell you he had some messages to check but he said he'd just listen to them on the plane. I'm guessing he's in the bathroom checking them right now. More privacy, you know." Prentiss finished with a dismissive way to the bathroom at the back of the jet. "He was right behind me. I'm sure he's here somewhere."

After a quick glance toward the tiny seemingly occupied lavatory, Morgan's shoulders slowly relaxed as he turned back around to recline on the threaded cushion.

"Alright then. Let's get going. If we know anything about this unsub it's that he tortures and kills his victims all within 24 to 48 hours of the abduction. We've got no time to lose" said Hotch.

As the plane began to lift off, Hotch, Prentiss, and JJ studied the details of the case, Morgan began breaking down the victimology, and Gideon engrossed himself in a map of the recent victim abductions; none of them realizing what was about to happen to their youngest member of the team.


	2. Something's Missing

Chapter 2: Something's Missing

The world was all sharp angles and sinister shadows. Reid slowly opened his eyes and looked around the room at the dirty surroundings enclosing him. With a throbbing head, he brushed a few chunks of blonde curls out of his damp eyes. Whether they was tears or not, he couldn't tell. His clothes smelt of stale coffee and his mouth was flooded with the bitter and metallic taste of fresh blood.

"Where am I?" he quietly muttered to himself, using the tip of his ripped sleeve to wipe away the crusted blood of a busted bottom lip. He spit out the rest of its bitter taste with extreme vigor.

"Can't say for sure" came a voice from deep within the shadows of the tiny room.

Reid was so shocked by the presence of a second voice, he instinctively jumped at the sound. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled with nervous energy. He hadn't expected an answer.

"Hello?" he whispered into the darkness. Nothing.

"Hello?" he said again, this time with more authority, although his voice still managed to crack under the pressure. Still nothing. Maybe he had only imagined a response. He remembered that schizophrenic voices were sometimes common in situations of this much stress and were exceedingly heightened when your family history suggested crazy relatives and chains of multiple sanitariums.

Still he tried for a third time. "Hel-"

"I'm here" interrupted the same meek voice as before. Reid could now tell that it was distinctly female and most definitely real. The voice also sounded young, really young. _Well, at least I'm not going crazy_, he thought with dismal amusement.

Reid squinted into the blackness trying to make out the shape of a human body. His hands began to sweat and his shallow breathing increased like it always did when he was scared. Ever since he could remember the darkness sent chills up and down his spine and he once remembered Morgan tirelessly teasing him for still being afraid of the dark. That all seemed like a distant memory now. Tucking his knees up under his chin, he couldn't help but long for a nightlight.

"What's your name?" he asked tentatively, feeling like a child himself. His training told him the first steps to a proper profile were making personal connections.

"Sammy. You?" Her tone held a tinge of hopefulness and relief he hadn't quiet expected.

"SSA Dr. Spencer Reid" he said instinctively. Only after the long pause that followed did Reid realize how stupid he sounded introducing himself by his full title. Lately, the constant workdays had morphed him into 'Reid the profiler' instead of 'Reid the person'.

"Sorry Sammy, my name's Spencer" he said, trying to make his tone as comforting and paternal as possible. Even though this girl sounded somewhere between the ages of ten and twelve he couldn't help but think of Jack. A sense of protectiveness swept over Reid as he thought about Hotch's baby boy. The last thing he needed to do was frighten this little girl.

"Not that I'm happy you're here," said Sammy with matter 'o factness, "but it's nice to hear a friendly voice. Or any voice really, outside of his." The emphasis she put on the word 'his' clearly proved she regarded him with a mixture of fear, hatred, and disgust.

"Do you know who 'he' is exactly?" asked Reid. He attempted to take another look around the dingy room but was, once again, met with total and utter darkness. He faintly remembered shoving his glasses into the left front pocket of his jacket but neither seemed to be anywhere within reaching distance. Reid shivered at the prospect of spending multiple days down in this cold and damp cellar. At least, due to the approximate temperature and overwhelming smell of mold, that was his best guess.

"I've never actually seen his face" replied Sammy, "but I'm not sure I'd even want to. The black mask he wears gives me nightmares."

Reid laughed despite himself. That's just what he needed; more nightmares.

"Just hang in there sweetie. I'll find us both a way out of here."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Hey, BabyGirl. Wasn't expecting the call but you know I can't resist the sweet ramblings of my very own tech goddess." Morgan teased as he answered his cell and set it on the counter, switching the dial to speaker. "What's up?"

"Derek," Immediately, Morgan knew something was wrong. Garcia rarely ever used his first name let alone start a sentence with it.

"Garcia, is everything alright. What's happened?" This time it was Hotch who asked the question; his eyebrows more creased and anxious than usual.

Garcia sounded pained and worried. Her breathing resonated heavily through the speaker. Seconds passed as the team, now focused intently on the tiny cell phone, waited for Garcia's response. "Baby, what is it?" Morgan tried to sound patient but he was getting hastily more nervous. Even after all the horrific people, places, and situations they'd all dealt with, Garcia had never sounded this panicked. Detaching herself from the endless murder and gore was what she'd always been good at; masking all her true feelings with witty banter and sparkly writing utensils.

"Do any of you know where Reid is?" her voice sounded fragile; like at any moment she could break down into a torrent of tears.

"Of course, he's here on the plane" said JJ, staring at the phone like it were a UFO. But as she looked around at the rest of her colleagues, she couldn't help but remember how quiet the trip had been and noticed its lack of random statistics. The same blank and confused expressions passed over the faces of every member. "He's here on the plane," JJ repeated to herself, willing it to be true.

"Is he?"


End file.
